


221-B Consolation Drabbles

by Vulgarweed



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Drabble Mix, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:25:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulgarweed/pseuds/Vulgarweed
Summary: Collecting the 7 221b drabbles (221 words, last word beginning with B) that I wrote for 221B-Consolation fest on Tumblr.





	1. Ramp It Up (Bone-Fiddle-verse Johnlock, Rated T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @starrla89, who wanted Bone Fiddle-verse Johnlock, being cute with each other (for certain values of “cute.”)
> 
> I decided to go seasonal and send them to one of West Virginia’s many Ramps Festivals!

“Fried ramps, pickled ramps, raw ramps, boiled ramps, ramp soup, ramp bread…” John muttered, gazing out on the cluster of booths at the annual festival.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the all-pervasive reek of the ubiquitous vegetable on display at every table. “A festival…for a rank-smelling wild onion,” he mused.

“Better eat some,” John grinned. “Gets in your pores. Mrs. Hudson is gonna sniff you, so you better smell right.”

“I’m aware,” Sherlock said glumly, looking down at the bacon-grease-fried-ramps-and-sausage sandwich in John’s hand. “You’re going to be smelling like that in our bed tonight, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” said John, taking a huge showboating bite. “You better eat some too so you match me, then it won’t bother you as much.”

Sherlock huffed in disdain, but he followed John as close as they could get away with walking together, tasting ramp delicacies from every table.

Then Sherlock stood dead still as he chewed. “Quick.” He looked at the banner on the table and then whirled away. John chased after him. “Radio Lestrade now,” he said. “That’s the Slab Fork Killer’s booth.”

“How can you tell?”

“The taste is off. Those ramps grew on a shallow grave.”

John turned a little green. “I was thinking about going back for some ramp jelly but…I think Mrs. Hudson makes it better.”


	2. Not Quite Cricket (Johnlock +2, rated G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @chriscalledmesweetie, who wanted Sherlock and John on a double date with Mrs. Turner’s “married ones.” One idea was that the other couple would be a reflection of Sherlock and John in some way - so why not another literary dynamic duo definitely deserving of their own modern adaptation?

“A double date?” John groaned. “Why? Does she think we need chaperones?”

“I think it’s more likely the other two gents do, John,” Sherlock said. He was taking this entirely too well. “Mrs. Turner has been lording it over Mrs. Hudson for years that her tenants appear to have been much swifter on the uptake about their relationship than you and I.” He stood before the mantel mirror primping his perfectly moussed curls and adjusting the knot of his scarf.

John jumped at the sound of the doorbell, and Mrs. Hudson’s squeal of delight, nearly as piercing. “One of ‘em’s kind of a big deal at cricket, I hear. You wouldn’t care about that.”

“Not in the least, but he has other talents that intrigue me,” Sherlock said, and John really hoped that meant he was some sort of brilliant criminal on the side, because that couldn’t possibly have been a suggestive leer.

John stopped up short when the two men walked into the parlour - one was tall and sharply-dressed, with rakish dark curls; his companion shorter and fairer and far less flamboyant. “Well, it’s not the Albany but it’ll do,” said the tall one with a little bow, flashing glittering cufflinks. “Honored to meet the legendary Holmes-Watson household. I’m A.J. and this is my dear husband Bunny.”


	3. The Communion Wine (ACD Holmes/Watson, Rated E, scene after The Art of the Blood)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @ellipsical-elle, who wanted a scene after the events of my ACD Holmes/Watson bloodplay fic [The Art of the Blood.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976163?%5C)
> 
> Warning for consensual bloodplay, and this is HUGELY SPOILERY for that fic, so please do read that fic first.

Holmes, on the divan awaiting me, in a royal blue dressing gown and naught else - how many years have I enjoyed this sight, each time as potent as the first, bringing me to my knees. One of his bare feet rested on the floor, and he stretched out his long leg across the cushions, giving me an enticing look at his inner thigh, pale and soft where his hairs tapered off.

Trembling, I crept in between his legs, and he opened the belt of his robe, presenting himself like the gift that he was. “Do you think it’s nearly time now, Watson?” he asked with a smile, his fingers drawing my attention to the smattering of silver in the thatch of dark hair around his rising cock.

“You age like fine wine,” I murmured, kissing my way up his leg to his bollocks, daringly nibbling them. “You have years yet before I need to stop the process.”

He moaned softly as my tongue stroked and sensed him; our hands locked together on his stiff cock as I carefully sank my fangs into the tender flesh of his thigh, drinking from the fast-pulsing artery there. His well-tempered wine rushed savoury-sweet in my mouth; the scent of his pleasure so male and vital. To bring him into immortality with me will be bittersweet.


	4. Sax and Violins (Johnlock, rated T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @bakingsherlycakes, who wanted: Johnlock, if you like? Maybe something where one of them surprises the other? Like with something unusual or out of character they did? Kind of like, they discovered something new about the other one and they loved what they found.

“This can’t be, John,” Sherlock growled in frustration, standing over the vest-and-boxer clad corpse that still clutched the cheeto-dusted console. Game Over indeed. “That can’t be the time of death.”

“I’m sure of it,” John said. “Call in Molly for a second opinion if you want but she’ll tell you the same thing. Why can’t it be?”

“Because then the flatmate’s alibi checks out! It does match the time the neighbor called in a noise complaint over saxophone practice! He couldn’t play and stab someone at the same time!”

“Saxophone…hmmm,” John said, as a sudden flash dawned. John bolted towards it and checked it out. “Playing it at the time of death? Not with this reed, he wasn’t. Dry as a bone. Hasn’t been played in days.”

“John! John, you’re brilliant!” Sherlock stalked the room until he found the hidden bluetooth speaker. “Of course! He recorded himself to make it sound like he was playing at that moment. How did you think to check the–?”

Sherlock stopped up short. John had a reed in his mouth and was nursing it in a very suggestive manner. Shortly he played a rather passable version of the signature lick of Gerry Rafferty’s “Baker Street.”

“Told you I played the clarinet in school.”

“I…thought that was a euphemism.”

“Well, that too,” John said bawdily.


	5. Her Last Straw (Johnlockary, canon divergence of a sort, rated T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For mid0nz, who wanted a riff on a certain hilarious scene between Sherlock and Mary in the graveyard that happens in one of the rough-draft scripts. Here be crack. The REAL reason Mary did what she did.

“Oh,” Sherlock breathed as the woman in black with the gun trained on Magnussen turned around. “I should have known.”

Mary swung the gun around towards Sherlock. “You should have. I gave you the clues.”

“Of course, Claire de la Lune is your shoot-a-man perfume. It’s a more risky, risqué, adventurous scent than the White Shoulders you wear when you’re feeling…wifely.”

“Remember what I said at your grave, Sherlock? When we were inexplicably visiting a plot of land we knew you never occupied?”

“That you could never date me because you’d never get any mirror time. Because I wear tight shirts and I moisturize and I ignore women.”

“Thought we were making a go of it anyway, weren’t we? You and me and John?”

Behind them, Magnussen snickered grotesquely.

“We were, I thought,” Sherlock said, hands up. “Look. Mary. I can help you. Your smokey eye is a little unbalanced on the left, that’s true, but …”

“All those months bobbing around your bloody tall back just trying to get a glimpse - I’ve left the house with blotchy contour too many times because of you. You’re in between me and a mirror right now, Sherlock! You’re not even looking at it! Back away or I’ll shoot!”

“No, Mrs Watson, you won’t. Now let me fix that eye, it’s tragic.”

_**BANG.** _


	6. From Bad to Vers (Johnlock, Rated M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @missdaviswrites, who wanted Sherlock at a con. I had just finished reading Laura Antoniou’s amazing The Killer Wore Leather: A Mystery, and I used to work my old newspaper’s booth at International Mr. Leather years ago, so I decided to interpret “con” thusly:

“It’s all so…specialised,” John said quietly. “I mean, nothing wrong with a bit of rough…” (he cleared his throat). “But all these…labels. Categories. Bears and puppies and bootblacks, oh my.”

“That’s one of the aspects I’m finding most fascinating,” Sherlock said with a pointy little smile. “I admire the precision.”

They’d barely bothered with cover, considering that the murder of the current Mr. Universal Leather titleholder was already a media sensation. NSY had chipped in to present Sherlock with a black leather version of that stupid hat before metaphorically slapping his arse and sending him off.

Even roaming the vendor room had been sexually-charged enough that Sherlock and John had taken refuge in the relatively-neutral t-shirt booth. Bear. Cub. Puppy. Fuckpig. Daddy. Top. Bottom. Vers.

Sherlock’s eyes scanned where John’s eyes lingered longest, and he made sure John knew it. “Good. Me too,” came the subsonic murmur. John was looking forward to making sure he’d understood it right.

“OH!” Sherlock yelled, looking at the con schedule. “Must run. It’s almost time for the recovery meeting.”

“You need a meeting? Right now?” John asked. The thought of Sherlock 12-stepping made him shudder, even though these people might know how to handle him.

“No, but our killer does! Amyl nitrate!” John stood briefly abandoned by the suspension demo as Sherlock bolted.


	7. Don't Squish the Messenger (Implied Johnlock, Rated E, Oglaf Fusion With Cumsprites)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for @nottoolateforthegame, who wanted: “Something similar to Ejaculations of Wonder? But just a one-shot-John finds out Sherlock is fantasizing about him because cumsprites tell him so?”

“It _was_ you, boss! It was you! He got off good thinking about you!”

John eyed the squelchy little being with relief and gratitude. “Oh, that’s good to know. Tell me more. What did he think about doing?”

“Oh, it was wild, boss. Maybe not what you think. He had you all tied up in his chair, naked, and he was doing stuff to you and you liked it, you were wiggling all over the place….Is that all right? Do you like it that way?”

John recalibrated for a moment and then nodded. “Sure, that’s fine. I’m just a little surprised he doesn’t want me to do _all_ the work as usual.”

The creature was looking down at its feet nervously, hemming and hawing.

“There’s more, isn’t there? Is it something kind of freaky? Come on!” He winced, realising that was a bad choice of words. “Go on, tell me. I’m getting scared. I’ve never seen a shy cumsprite before. I can handle it. Whips? Wax? Piss? Electricity? Severed heads? If he can’t shock me anymore, you can’t.”

“No, no, nothing like that….it was just…”

“Go on! Spill!” Bad choice of words again.

“Well, boss…. _he made you wear the hat!”_

John sat back, blinking, in earnest contemplation of his hard limits.

“Can I splash on your titties, boss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has FANART!!!!
> 
> iwantthatcoat drew FANART!!!!
> 
> (It's as SFW as cumsprites ever get!)
> 
> https://221b-consolation.tumblr.com/post/173439467026/vulgarweed-iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant-for


End file.
